Flight 714 Rewrite
by Victor A November
Summary: Passengers on a plane trip, Flight 714, from Jakarta to Sydney, run into trouble when they switch from their QANTAS plane to a private jet owned by millionaire Lazlo Carriedas. Originally following the story from the comic book by Hergé, the story is now being rewritten by me, Victor A November.
1. Jakarta, I Tell You!

**G'day. I know I haven't finished either of my other stories (which should definitely be read and reviewed), but I had a dream the other night, and wanted to write it down.**

**Basically, it's a crazy rewrite of _Flight 714_.**

**I do not own The Adventures Of Tintin, but I do own a brain which constantly pretends I do own Tintin.**

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"Jakarta, I tell you! Jakarta!"

"Oh really? I thought it was Jakarta."

"This _is_ Jakarta, Professor," the boy explained gently.

"I know, I just thought it was Jakarta," Professor Calculus said.

"Jakarta! Thundering typhoons, why don't you just listen to what I say?" Captain Haddock, the retired sailor, yelled.

"Botany Bay? I thought we still had another flight..."

"We do. There's an hour to pass until our flight leaves." The boy, a teenager named Tintin, said. He was pulling a frustrated whit fox terrier along be a leash at his feet.

"Good. Let's go to the bar and grab a drink." Captain Haddock said.

The three travellers walked into the airport, Tintin and the captain slightly ahead of Professor Calculus.

"Hey! Stop!" Calculus exclaimed, gesturing to a sign showing the word 'Jakarta'. Haddock and Tintin turned around to see what the professor was going on about. Haddock growled angrily and spun back around, dragging Tintin with him. Weaving through the hustle and bustle of the airport, Haddock was surprised to see an older man sitting hunched on a chair. He was wearing a grey coat, yellow scarf and an old fedora. His trousers had ridden up, revealing his falling down socks.

_He looks so damn miserable. How long has it been since he's had a decent meal?_ Captain Haddock thought. As he watched the poor old man, his thoughts were all of his whiskey, when that man couldn't even buy a cup of tea. The man suddenly breathed in deeply, about to sneeze. _How could he have a cold in the tropics?!_ Haddock thought incredulously, as the man finally released the sneeze he had been trying to hold in. His fedora was blown from his head, rolling to a stop in front of Haddock's feet. The captain bent down to retrieve the fedora, discreetly slipping a five-dollar note into the hat, before handing it back to the old man.

"Aaaaah, aaaaah, t'ank you," the man mumbled, taking the hat.

_"What's this? Am I dreaming? It can't be... A five-dollar note!"_ Haddock imagined the old man's use of the note, continuing on his way over to the bar._ "Heaven be praised! At last I can buy food!" He'd get a pair of jumbo sandwiches_, Haddock thought, a tear of joy running down his weathered face. So wrapped up in his thoughts, Haddock didn't see the suitcase in front of his feet, or hear Tintin's cry of warning, before it was too late. Haddock tripped over the case and was about to execute a beautiful face-plant, but was caught by a tanned pair of muscular arms. Looking up into the shocked face of his rescuer, Haddock exclaimed one word: "Skut!"

"It's been ages, Skut!" Tintin said, hiding his laughter behind a hand. Skut was, in fact, the name of the Estonian pilot who had caught Haddock.

"Yes. Very long." Skut replied, shaking Tintin and Haddock's hands.

"And this is Professor Calculus. I'm sure you've heard of him." Haddock said.

"Yes, yes. I proud to meet you, Professor." Skut shook the professor's hand too.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Haddock asked.

"I pilot private aeroplane. You know famous tycoon Laszlo Carriedas?... OK, him my boss." Skut answered happily.

"Laszlo Carriedas? Isn't he the 'millionaire who never laughs'?" Tintin asked.

"Yes, he is," Skut answered.

"And he's a plane manufacturer too, right?"

"Yes. He has very fancy planes." Skut said. "I flying him to International Astronautical Congress in Sydney."

"Blistering blue barnacles! That's where we're going! Guests of honour, you know. First men on the moon and all..."

"Ah. I thought you go on new adventure."

"No! No, by thunder! No more adventures, I'm retired!" Haddock exclaimed. He was about to continue, but Snowy, Tintin's dog, interrupted him with a loud growl. A man in an aircrew uniform had trodden on his foot on his way over to Skut.

"Telex for you, Skipper. Here's the flight plan." He said, after a few choice profanities.

"Thank you. This is Paolo Colombani. He be my copilot. This is Captain Haddock, Professor Calculus and Tintin, my friends." Skut introduced.

"Hi!"

After a brief report on the weather conditions, Colombani left, leaving Skut with the companions.

"Here comes my boss. Mr Carriedas happy to meet first men on moon." Skut announced pointing at a ginger haired businessman and the older man Haddock had given the five-dollar note to.

After a brief conversation in which Haddock and his companions introduced themselves to Mr Carriedas, who turned out to be the scruffy man in the fedora, not the business man, it was decided that the companions would travel to Sydney on Mr Carriedas' newest plane with him. Spalding, Mr Carriedas' secretary, left to change the companions' tickets, before returning with the tickets.

"Is time to board," Skut announced. Mr Carriedas, Spalding, Skut, Haddock, Calculus and Tintin went out to the airstrip where the plane was parked. It was a beautifully designed plane, all red, white and black. Carriedas explained several of the high-tech features to the companions as they climbed aboard.

No one noticed the man in an orange polo shirt, spying on the group through a pair of high quality binoculars. Picking up a walkie talkie, he sent a message to his boss. _"The bird has flown towards the cage. Sneezewort's picked up three extra passengers. Tintin's one of them."_

Back on the plane, properly known as the Carriedas 160, The steward had made sure the passengers were comfortable in the plane, before setting up the battleship gameboards for Carriedas and Haddock.

"Thanks, Gino," Carriedas said.

"Il Signore is welcome," came the reply.

Tintin was seated behind Spalding. He had Snowy on his lap, and was soothing the dog, who had a severe fear of flying. Tintin had noticed that something was not right the moment he met Colombani, but had passed no comment on his concerns. Once the plane had taken off, he began to wish he had declined the offer of a free ride. Hs feeling of anxiety had increased dramatically when they got into the air, and continued to rise as he noticed Spalding start staring at his watch, as if there was something important about to happen.

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**Dun dun dun! What did you think?**


	2. Of Battleships, Wings And Hostages

**G'day. How's it goin'?**

**I would like to say thank you to the following:**

**supersmach: Thanks for following! Hope you enjoy the ride!**

**Tinkerbell2511: Thank you for following ze story, and don't worry: the story is gone' be _very_ different by the time I'm done with it! Enjoy.**

**This is where the story gets different. You have been warned.**

**Guess what? I own the drawings I've done of Tintin! I don't, however, own Tintin.**

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"C4-D4-E4? Not a bad start, Captain. You've sunk a submarine, but the other two shots went into the water." Carriedas said.

"Aha! Now all I need is a smoke, if the smoke won't bother you?" Haddock replied, taking out his pipe.

"Smoking is strictly prohibited, Captain. Even the smell of tobacco upsets me."

Haddock grumbled as he put his pipe away. He glanced out of the window just in time to see the plane wing moving backwards. "The wing!" Haddock screeched.

"The wing? What about the wing?" Carriedas asked.

"What about the wing?... Nothing, except it's come loose!" Haddock answered.

"A goose? Really? Where?" Calculus asked.

"Pffff! Loose!" Carriedas snorted.

"I beg your pardon, but I don't think a plane that starts shedding its wings in midair us very funny." Haddock said.

"It's not shedding its wings at all, Captain. It's just the swing-wing in operation." Carriedas explained. "At various heights above the sea level, the plane's wings move to provide the smoothest flight possible. Now, let's get back to our game."

As Haddock and Carriedas continued their game, Tintin noticed Spalding getting more and more agitated. He was continuously glancing at his watch, chewing his nails and sweating profusely. Tintin couldn't help but frown when Spalding stood up and walked over to Carriedas.

"I'm going to the cabin, Mr Carriedas. Just to see how everything's going." Spalding informed his boss.

"Don't interrupt me, Spalding! I'm trying to concentrate!" Carriedas replied.

Spalding walked through the door separating the cockpit from the cabin. Tintin, not trusting Spalding, followed silently, placing Snowy on the floor beside his seat. He hid behind the door, and listened to Spalding's conversation with the crew.

"Mr Carriedas sent me along. He wants to know our position." Spalding told Skut.

"We've just passed a beacon on the island of Lombok. We're now heading for Timor." Skut answered.

"Good. By the way, Mr Carriedas would like to speak with you, Skipper."

"Me? Alright. I'll come at once. You take over the controls, Colombani." Skut replied, as he straightened his tie and placed his crew member's cap on his head. He walked out of the cabin, straight past Tintin, who was trying to remain unnoticed, even though it was obvious that the door wasn't the whole way open.

"You go. I'll be along." Spalding said, reaching into his breast pocket. As he walked past Tintin's hiding place, he kicked the door open, where it struck Tintin in the face. Tintin inhaled sharply and clenched his teeth, but otherwise remained silent. Peeking around the edge of the door, Tintin was just in time to see Spalding whip a handgun out of his pocket and yell the classic "hands up!".

"Spalding?!" Carriedas yelled. "What is the meaning of this stupid joke?"

"It means, my old baboon, that I'm giving the orders for a change... You heard: get your hands up!... Now, on your feet and move to the rear of the aircraft... Everybody!" Spalding ordered, as he pulled a second gun from his pocket.

"Spalding, I'll..." Carriedas threatened.

Haddock had moved past Spalding, and turning back to face the hijacker, he noticed Spalding's face twisted in concentration. Haddock realised Spalding was counting the prisoners just as Tintin stepped carefully out from behind the door. Tintin had just begun to creep up behind Spalding, but stopped when Carriedas exclaimed, "That's it, young what's-your-name... Tintin. Good for you! Take away his gun!"

Spalding whirled around just in time for Tintin to jump on him anyway. The boy lunged for the gun in Spalding's right hand, but soon realised that his arms were far too short to reach the gun at the end of Spalding's much longer arm. Spalding threw his left hand gun into the cockpit and punched Tintin in the cheek, conveniently catching him right where the door had collided with his face. Tintin fell back, holding a hand to where he'd been hit. Sensing Spalding about to hit him again, Tintin formed his hands into fists and took up a defensive position.

"Too weak to go try and attack me, boy?" Spalding taunted.

Tintin merely frowned, before pouncing on Spalding. He raised his left fist to punch Spalding, but it was grabbed by Hans Boehm, the new 'radio operator', who had been behind Tintin the whole time. Hans wrenched Tintin's arm behind his back, pulling a cry of pain from the boy's lips.

"Nice try," Hans sneered, as he yanked Tintin to his feet... by the arm which was twisted painfully behind his back. He then pulled the boy's arm further behind his back, resulting in another cry of pain.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Haddock exclaimed angrily, as he attempted to hold a madly barking Snowy away from the fight. The last thing he wanted was someone being shot by accident. "Bashi bazouks! Centipedes! Cybermen!"

"Shut up, you old sea dog," Hans snapped. He wrenched Tintin's arm for emphasis, resulting in a small whimper of pain.

"Hans, you know it's mean to hurt little boys," Spalding tutted, as he stood up and with lightning speed, struck Tintin over the eye. Deciding that he liked hurting the teen, Spalding continued to strike Tintin, while Hans held him steady. At first it was just slaps to the face, but it didn't take long for Spalding to progress to punches to the boy's chest and abdomen. By the time Spalding had finished, Tintin was sagging in Hans's grip, one eye swollen and turning blue, his cheeks pink and scratched from the elaborate rings on Spalding's fingers. There were already black and blue spots forming into bruises on Tintin's arms, and undoubtedly on his torso as well.

"Don't try anything else with me, boy. You won't succeed." Spalding hissed.

"Wasn't g-go-in' to," Tintin mumbled.

"Don't backtalk me. Right. Everyone to the kitchenette." Spalding ordered.

The prisoners began to file through the seats, followed by Spalding.

"Wait!" Hans called. He still had Tintin hanging from his arms. Spalding turned around to see what the matter was. The prisoners followed suit, turning just in time to see Hans reposition Tintin on his feet.

"I don't think we did enough before." Hans explained, as he gripped Tintin's left arm tightly. He twisted it sharply, before yanking it back and out. A sickening crunch was heard: the sound of Tintin's left arm popping out of its socket. Tintin screamed, before falling to his knees.

"Showtime's over! Get in the kitchenette!" Spalding shouted, forcing the prisoners into the tiny space at the back of the plane. He pulled a key from his pocket and locked the door securely. Spalding then helped Hans to tie Tintin into one of the aircraft seats, ignoring the tears that sprung from the boy's eyes every time his arm was jostled. Spalding and Hans then joined Colombani in the cockpit, leaving Tintin alone in the cabin.

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**Oh my gosh. What have I done? *smiles evilly***

**Am I like the only person out here who loves it when Tintin gets beat up? And while I'm in the question mood, what'd ja think?**

**See ya later!**


	3. Smoothest of Landings

**Why hello. I know I haven't been posting for ages. I'm sorry! I have, as well as posting this chapter, edited chapter 2. So you should read that too, if you haven't already. And the rating is now T, due to the content of last chapter.**

**In response to last chapter's reviews:**

**Tinkerbell2511: I know I'm mean, hurting Tintin like this, but don't worry, he'll be just fine. Eventually.**

**Guest: thank you so much for your detailed review! I do agree with what you' er suggested, so I made a few changes to Chapter 2, just for you.**

**Constantinus: as you requested, I have updated. And I see what you mean about the rating. Therefore, it has been changed.**

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"Billions of billious blue barnacles," Haddock murmured. "... In a thundering typhoon." _How on earth had he let those hijacking idiots hurt Tintin?_

"You think Tintin be okay?" Skut asked, his face creased with worry.

"Oh, he'll be all right. He always is." Haddock answered vaguely, staring out of the tiny window, before pacing over to the door and banging on it repeatedly, demanding to be let out. No answer.

"This has happened before?" Carriedas asked, suddenly interested.

"Worse. The lad's been kidnapped, knocked out and shot more times than I care to remember, but he's always gotten over it. He's got a hard head, that boy."

**xxx**

Meanwhile, back in the cabin, Tintin stirred and attempted to raise himself into a better sitting position. He soon realised that he couldn't move: he was tightly bound to a seat near the front of the cabin. Gasping softly, Tintin forced himself to relax his stiff muscles. The ropes holding him in place slackened slightly, allowing him to breathe more easily. Taking a deep breath, he took in all of the signs around him. He could hear the hijackers in the cockpit, discussing how they would escape from the radar, a quiet throbbing sound coming from the engine. Tintin strained his hearing even further, and made out a banging coming from the kitchenette. He guessed it would be Captain Haddock, judging by the yelling coming faintly through the door.

"Shut the hell up!" Spalding yelled, making his way to the back of the plane. "Unless you want boy out here to get hurt."

"No! Don't you dare!" Haddock shouted back through the door.

"Dear, oh dear. I thought I told you to be quiet..." Spalding taunted, walking back to Tintin, pulling out a knife and cutting through the ropes holding him in place. He yanked the boy to his feet, ignoring the whimper of pain when he knocked the boy's arm, and pulled him up the aisle.

"What're y-you doin'," Tintin asked groggily.

Spalding took the key for the kitchenette from his pocket and unlocked the door. He pushed Tintin roughly inside, noting with satisfaction the boy's cry of pain as he fell to the floor and rolled over, clutching his injured arm tightly, before lying limp on the ground.

The hijacker closed the door and relocked it firmly, before making his way back to the cockpit, where the pilots were discussing how they were going to land the plane.

"I locked the boy in with the others," Spalding said, as he slipped into the radio operator's seat. "Ah, there's the island. We're home and dry now."

"Home and dry? Don't count your chickens, Inglese. It isn't all over by a long chalk!" Colombani sneered.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"For starters, the runway we're meant to land on is about a quarter of the length this bus needs..."

**xxx**

"Tintin! Wake up, dear boy!" Professor Calculus demanded, shaking Tintin gently by his good shoulder.

"A-am awake," came the groggy reply. The tension in the room escaped with a small sigh of relief as Tintin forced his eyes as far open as he could and sat up. Calculus was kneeling on the floor in front of him, staring into his face worriedly. The professor had an open first aid kit sitting beside him, some of the contents spilled out across the floor. Tintin winced as a painkiller bottle rolled across the floor and smashed on the wall when the plane dipped suddenly.

"Well? Is he okay or not?" Haddock demanded loudly. Calculus, being almost deaf, did not hear. He simply continued spilling the first aid equipment onto the floor, clearly searching for something. That something was a disposable sling for Tintin's arm. He tied the sling around Tintin's neck, explaining that he couldn't relocate the shoulder until they got to a hospital. Calculus then proceeded to disinfect and cover the scratches on the boy's face.

"I'm okay, Captain," Tintin murmured softly, shifting so that he could lean against the back of the kitchen counter. He sighed softly, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Calculus re-packed the first aid box and stood up, his job finished.

**xxx**

Meanwhile, back in the cockpit, Colombani had prepared the plane for landing on the island. Spalding, he had decided, was not one for flying. His face was almost of a greenish hue, and he looked ready to vomit all over the radio.

"Go and sit in the cabin, Spalding," Hans ordered. Spalding slowly stood up and made his way out of the cockpit. "Ready?" He asked Colombani.

"Let's get this over with."

**xxx**

"They land the plane. All sit against forward wall, hands behind head!" Skut commanded urgently. The hostages sat together against the wall, nervously awaiting their arrival on the island. Tintin was sandwiched between Skut and Haddock, who was doing his best to shield the boy's shoulder from being bashed on the wall.

Snowy cowered between Tintin's legs, whimpering softly. He didn't like flying at the best of times, but if he couldn't sit in his master's Kaplan and be cuddled, he was far from happy. He took one of Tintin's plus-fours cuffs in his teeth and chewed it gently, still whimpering.

The plane began to descend more steeply, tilting on a sideways angle to reach the runway in exactly the right position. The hostages braced themselves against the walls and prepared for a rough landing.

The wheels struck the runway with a bang, squealing loudly as the brakes were applied. A parachute burst from the tail, slowing the plane only temporarily before bursting and tearing itself to shreds. The pilots applied the brakes even more, fighting against the crazy speed generated by their landing. With a bang, the nose wheel burst, leaving the pilots with virtually no control of what could very well become their death trap.

The plane slid into a rope net, which stretched as the plane pulled it tight. The ropes then snapped tight again, pulling the plane into a standstill at the absolute end of the runway.

**xxx**

With a click of the lock, the kitchenette door opened, banging against the wall. Colombani and Spalding were standing in the doorway, each holding a gun in one hand.

"Get up! Everyone out of the plane, hands in the air, single file!" Spalding ordered, pointing his gun directly at Tintin, who was still on the floor, holding his arm to his chest. "You're last one off."

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**Well, you know what I'm going to ask. Did you like it?**

**You also know what I'm going to ask for. Review please?**


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